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M5576 
Copy 1 



Elaine Ingersoll Minick 






















The Fourth Rehearsal 

BT 

Elaine Ingersoll Minick 



Copyright January, 1922, in the United States 
By Elaine Ingersoll Minick 


Professionals and amateurs are hereby warned that this 
play is copyrighted under the existing laws of the United 
States, and no one is allowed to produce this play without 
first having obtained permission of Elaine Ingersoll Minick, 
2129 Pearl Street, Jacksonville, Fla. 










M 26 1922 

©CI.D 5 9 763 

-w« I 


First Presented b$ 

Jacksonville Community Players 

Jacksonville, Florida 

December 12, 1921 

Direction Miss Tracy L’Engle 

Cast 

HELEN GARDNER - Elaine I. Minick 

THEODORE CLEEVES.J. B. Lucy 

MR. LANGLEY - Col. Walter P. Corbett 

Scene: Any Theatre in New York at the Beginning of the 
Season. 

Time: Morning 

Stage Decoration by Mrs. Francis L’Engle. 


“Then came the fun of the evening in the rollicking comedy 
of Mrs. Minick’s playlet, ‘The Fourth Rehearsal.’ To begin 
with, the lines are so true to what goes on in the making of 
a play and the sayings are so bright and witty that, with the well 
balanced cast, it was but natural that from beginning to end 
there should be only the heartiest of laughter.” 

(Jacksonville Times-Union , Dec. 13, 1921.) 



The Fourtk Rehearsal 


Cast of Characters 

Langley —A stage manager, medium height, rather stout, 
his hat on and coat off. He alters the angle of' said hat with 
each change of emotion and crams it on more securely before 
venturing into an argument. He is smoking and chewing ai 
cigar which goes out every few miuutes. He has some ideals 
and artistic ability concealed—well concealed in his make-up. 

Helen Gardner —A leading woman to whom acting is an 
Art—with a capital “A” 

Theodore Cleeves —A leading man to whom acting is a 
business unth a medium-sized “B". 

Scene. 

Interior small cottage; door and voindow center back.- 
Fireplace and arm chair right. Plain table with an abundance 
of 'limiting materials two chairs and book shelves left. Chair 
against right proscenium with Langley’s coat on it. 

At the rising of the curtain—Cleeves is smoking stage 
center, and Langley is in the act of crossing chair in front 
reading from manuscript as he goes. 

Langley —Interior mountain cottage, time summer evening 
six weeks later. George Harkness discovered at table writing. 
“All right, George.” (Sits and tilts his chair back.) 

Cleeves —Drops cigarette, steps on it and proceeds to table, 
hangs his hat on back of chair, sits and registers profound ab¬ 
sorption in composition. Dead pause. 


5 


Langley— ( Irascibly letting the front legs of his chair 
come down with a bang.) “Miss Gardner—Miss Gardner!’ 

(Strides up stage and yanks door open disclosing a copy of 
( ‘Vanity Fair” with a lady behind it.) “Miss Gardner—your 
entrance please.” 

Helen— ( Rising ) “Mr. Langley, if you bawl at me like 
that I shall never be able to come on properly. I have to 
begin feeling the part a few moments before my entrance.” 

Langley —( Returning to chair) “I see. Will you kindly 
start ‘feeling’ as soon as possible, we are waiting. (Sits). 

Helen —Sweeps from the door and past the window, the 
picture of offended dignity and reappears almost at once the 
image of wistful entreaty. During her brief absence— 

Langley — (In undertone) “How long has she been in the 
business ?” 

Cleeves —“I don’t know.” 

Langley —“Believes in acting a plenty when she’s got a 
chance, don’t she?” 

Cleeves —Nods, grinning. Helen enters. 

Helen — (With great emotion) “George! George darling! 
There will be something here to put my cape on, won’t there, 
Mr. Langley?” 

Langley —“I dunno; idea is to keep the set as simple as 
possible. Must you have a cape? Its summertime you know.” 

Helen —“The wearing of capes is decided by fashion, not 
the thermometer, nowadays, Mr. Langley.” 

Cleeves —“Would a nail do?” 

Helen —“Certainly not! What woman of temperament 
could hit a nail at a time like this. I must have a chair or 
couch—or something. You see I thought sweeping it off like 
this would be a gesture beautifully symbolic of laying aside all 
artificial defenses.” 

Langley —(Anxious to dam the verbal current) “All 


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right—all right!” ( Writing in notebook) “One couch—for 
—cape ! Go on, please.” 

Helen— “George, George darling!” ( Refers to manuscript 
in her hand.) 

Langley —“Say, what are you doing with that thing?” 

Helen —“This? Well, good heavens—you don’t expect me 
to know my part without script at the fourth rehearsal, do 
you ?” 

Langley— “I’ll do all the prompting necessary; you can’t 
act with your part in your hand! Put it down!” 

Helen —( Shrugs, pitches it into a corner and commences 
again) “George, George darling!” 

Cleeves —“Oh, Margaret, why—why did you come ? It 
can’t change anything. It only means sorrow for us both—” 

Langley —“You cross right on that.” 

Cleeves —“Huh ?” 

Langley —“Cross right!” 

Cleeves —“Oh sure! I forgot. Er—sorrow for us both. 
I wrote you—” 

Helen —“I know you wrote, but I simply had to see you. 
I cannot, cannot understand how you could leave a life of 
abundant comfort to bury yourself out here—alone!” 

Cleeves —“I am not alone.” 

Helen —“Who is with you?” 

Cleeves —“Celia.” 

Helen —“Oh, the colossal selfishness of men! You took 
advantage of her sisterly devotion to bring her, afflicted as 
she is, to this wilderness! Mr. Langley, I feel so wooden 
standing here all this while; can’t I do something?” 

Langley —“We-el, the colossal selfishness of men gives you 
a chance to rant a little—about over to that corner and back— 
that’s all the action I can see.” 


7 



Helen —( Ranting a little over to corner) “Colossal selfish¬ 
ness—sisterly devotion—afflicted to this wilderness !” 

Cleeves—“W hat makes one place in the universe any more 
of a wilderness than another—to the blind?” 

Helen—“P erhaps that’s true. But, dearest, what of you? 
Why did you leave me? What did I do or leave undone?” 

Langley—“G o over to him—go over to him—this is no 
telephone conversation!” 

Helen—“E r—perhaps that’s true !” 

Langley —( Sharply ) “There’s no doubt about it!” 

Helen —( Tartly ) “That is my line.” 

Langley —( Consulting script ) “ ’Scuse !” 

Helen — “What did I do or leave undone?” ( Crossing 
slowly). 

Langley—“P ut a little action into it. Like this—see?” 
(Crosses to table, lays cigar and script on desk, crams his hat 
on more securely, takes a hitch in each sleeve and proceeds to 
serpentine across the stage and twine himself *■round Cleeves > 
who half averts his face and gives several wriggles of dis¬ 
taste.) “What did I do or leave undone?” (Noticing Cleeves' 
face) “Say, what the deuce is wrong with you?” 

Cleeves —( Embarrassed ) “Your acting is too good, makes 
me feel a bit ridiculous.” 

Langley—( Resuming cigar and script ) “I see; well, get 
on with it!” (Sits again). 

Helen —(Throwing her arms violently around Cleeves ’ 
neck ) “Or leave undone?” 

Cleeves —(Disengaging her arms) “My dear child, you 
were smothering me to death—then—as now !” 

Helen —(Backing away sobbing) “How can you be so 
cruel ?” 

Langley—“A ll the way over on that!” 


8 



Helen—( In midst of a sob ) “What?” 

Langley—“A ll the way over to chair on far side of the 
desk.” 

Helen—“I t doesn’t seem natural.” 

Langley—( Impatiently ) “Aw—do it anyway!” 

Helen—( Goes over and sits still sobbing ) “Go on, George.” 

Cleeves—( Coming to opposite side of table ) “Margaret, 
why did you marry me?” 

Helen—“I loved you—love you.” 

Cleves—“I wonder.” 

Helen—“I have shown in every way I could, in word and 
deed. If you still can’t realize it I can only wish my love were 
something tangible that I could take in my two hands and give 
to you.” ( Stretches her arms across the table hands turned 
palms up and droops her head despairingly.) 

Cleeves—( With reminiscent tenderness) “Poor little hands 
—in other days—I say, would you mind not letting your fin¬ 
gers twiddle like that, it’s very distracting.” 

Helen—“T hey are not twiddling.” 

Cleeves—“T hey are—I’m looking at ’em.” 

Helen —( Makes her hands flat and rigid.) 

Cleeves—( With sarcasm) “Great improvement, complete 
reading two dollars—any three questions on success, love or 
marriage fifty cents extra.” 

Langley —( Frantically searching *script ) “I can’t find 
that speech.” 

Helen—“O f course you can’t; Mr. Cleeves is attempting 
to be humorous.” 

Langley—“O h, he is, is he? Well, George, you get down 
to cases. It’s getting on to lunch time.” 

Cleeves—( Back in character) “It was the small success 
I had won and the greater success I might win that attracted 


9 



you, Margaret, or why did you make our life one futile round 
of social functions designed to exhibit your captive author!” 

Helen —“That is not true. I really loved you.” 

Cleeves —“Margaret, love to me is like water, there can be 
no life, no growth without it. You would bottle yours—pre¬ 
ferably in a carafe with silver trimmings and let it grow stale. 
I would have mine a deep wide river flowing down the years, 
making the banks to blossom—mirroring the glories of the 
heavens and bearing upon it dream ships—dream ships—laden 
with—to— what’s the line, Mr. Langley?” 

Langley— ( Who has been studying the scenery intently for 
some time ) “Eh—Oh! Wait a minute anyway. What do you 
say we have the door moved further over here and then we 
could have the full benefit of the sunset light on Margaret’s 
face all through this scene.” 

Helen —“How do you mean ‘benefit’—exactly, Mr. Lang¬ 
ley?” Langley glares—Cleeves snickers—then— 

Langley— “Any way you choose to take it, young lady. 
What do you think, Cleeves?” 

Cleeves —“I’m afraid it would spoil the effect of Margaret’s 
entrance.” 

Langley —“Mabbe so and then you’d likely cast a shadow 
on her, we’ll let it go. Where were you?” 

Cleeves —( A little wearily) ‘Drifting down the river when 
last heard from. ( Taking script ) That is a long, talky one 
and I don’t seem to know it. May I skip it, Mr. Langley, I’ll 
try to learn it at lunch. Margaret, your cue is—worse than 

death.” 

Helen —“And my happiness is nothing to you?” 

Cleeves —“Was happiness yours, Margaret? Happiness is 
no man’s fireside companion! She is a nymph—shod with 
shilver shandals—whew—I knew I’d never make the grade 
with that! Better change it, Mr. Langley, I used to stutter.” 


10 



Helen —“Oh, don’t do it, shod with silver sandals of fleet¬ 
ness is too pretty to change.” 1 

Cleeves —“Let her say it, then.” 

Langley —“She can’t. What would be the natural thing 
for you to say just there?” 

Cleeves —“To be quite franl£, drivel of this sort isn’t nat¬ 
ural to me at all.” 

{Pause during which Langley chews pencil as though to » 
absorb inspiration from the brilliance of the varnish.) 

Helen —“Why did you accept a role so at variance with 
your nature, Mr. Cleeves?” 

Cleeves —“I needed the money, Miss Gardner.” 

Helen —“I cannot understand anyone violating his artistic 
nature and debasing his Art by— 

Cleeves —“You’ll find if you live long enough that the peo¬ 
ple who starve, voluntarily for the sake of Art, exist mostly 
between book-covers.” 

Langley —“Here— just call happiness a fleet-footed nymph 
and let her sandals go!” 

Cleeves —“Hm—er—Happiness is a fleet-footed nymph, 
those who catch a glimpse of her are lucky; those with whom 
she spends a single hour are blessed.” 

Helen —“Words, words, words, how you adore them. You 
seem lost in a forest of them, raised by your intellectual con¬ 
ceit. If I, instead of being a jealous fool, wanted my friends 
to know and like you—I was exhibiting my captured author 
because it sounds more complicated and interesting. If my 
money made it possible to give you comfort and leisure in 
which to write, I was bottling love and letting it go stale. 
What I call happiness you term contentment and sneer at it 
as something dull and commonplace. Contentment or happi¬ 
ness—it was precious to me—our life together, the mere con¬ 
sciousness of your presence shut me away from the world’s 
annoyances like a magic fortress of—ooo—ouch !” 


11 



Both Men— “Whassamatter ?” 

Helen —( Startled almost out of her chronic pose ) “Only 
a hairpin—down my back—but it was so cold. I’m sure I beg 
your pardon.” 

Cleeves —“Was it really like that with you, Margaret?” 

Helen —“It was; remember it when the frost of time has 
blighted the banks of your river and crusted its surface so 
that it can no longer reflect the glories of the heavens. Good¬ 
bye.” ( Goes up stage towards door.) 

Cleeves —“Margaret, I begin to feel—Mr. Langley, both 
of us should not turn our backs to the audience. Miss Gardner 
ought not to get so far up stage.” 

Helen —“Yes—I ought. My part says: ‘Turns round in 
doorway!’ ” 

Cleeves —“I can do as much as most men but I cannot yearn 
to the back drop. If I stretch out beseeching arms the best cut 
coat in the world will come crawling up my back and make me 
look as if I were slowly telescoping. Better move your old 
door after all!” 

Helen— “And ruin my entrance, I guess not! Why, I 
would be clear to center before I’d be noticed at all.” 

Cleeves —“Of course, I can’t imagine anything worse than 
that!” 

Helen— “Sir!” 

Langley— “Time! I’m going to lunch with the long-haired 
•lad that wrote this thing and I’ll speak to him about that point. 
For the time being, stand where you please, but get through 
with the lines.” 

Cleeves —“Mind—I’m going to talk to you where I think 
you belong!” 

Helen— “And I’m going to stand where I know I belong!” 
(Goes up stage.) 

Cleeves — ( Down stage right—apparently addressing a 
phantom opposite him) T begin to feel I am the one who did 
not understand, Margaret!” 

Helen— ( In door center hack) “Did you call?” 


12 



Cleeves —( Still addressing phantom) “Can you forgive 
me ?” 

Helen— ( Coming down stage) “Do you mean it?” 

Cleeves— ( Taking her hands) “I mean to try — I mean to 
make—Oh—but we’ve had enough of words! Let’s try the 
heart’s own language—so!” ( Embraces her.) 

Helen —“My arm should go over yours.” ( Shifting her 
arm.) 

Cleeves —-“It should not—I am the taller.” ( Shifts his.) 

Helen —“It looks awkward that way!” ( Shifts again.) 

Cleeves —“It feels awkward that way. ( Shifts his.) 

Helen— ( Exasperated, hut still embraced) “Mr. Langley.” 

Langley —“M—hm—I’m right here looking at you—and 
you’re both wrong. What you are doing looks like a Greco- 
Roman wrestling clinch more than a fond embrace. Get her 
over on your shoulder more so—this arm higher—this’n round 
her waist (fixing them as if they were clay figures). Now rest 
your hand on his shoulder, Miss Gardner; now business of 
long lingering kiss.” 

(With mechanical obedience their lips meet—as soon as 
they fairly touch Langley looks at his watch — andl starts put¬ 
ting on his coat.) 

Langley —“Look here, people !” 

(Helen and Cleeves look up, but forget to let go they ate 
so intent on Langley's remarks.) 

Langley —“It’s after twelve; be back at two and we’ll pol¬ 
ish up a couple of bits of business. The rest of the cast are 
called for the first acts at three—so be on time. So long! 
(Exits right.) 

(Helen and Cleeves look at each other realise their posi¬ 
tions—fairly pop apart. Cleves selfconsciously straightens his 
tie—dives for his hat, exits < left Helen ditto pats her hair, 
turns and goes up stage after cape with head a bit too high.)] 

(Curtain ) 


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